“No.”
Antonio walked up and I registered the surprise on his face. He wasn’t used to me having company for dinner. I wasn’t used to it either.
“I’ll have my usual. Dexter?”
“The same,” he said, grinning, and the small smile on his face spoke of the nostalgia filling this moment.
So like our first date.
When Antonio walked away, he pounced again. “Why not?”
“Because I know you, Dexter. You wouldn’t be sitting here if you had a wife at home. You’re too good of a guy.” I exhaled shakily. “And…I’m hoping you never got over me the way I never got over you.” I wanted to smack myself upside the head. Open honesty would get me a twice-broken heart.
I looked up at him and noted his hesitation. While this was so like our first date, in too many ways, it wasn’t. Seven years was a long time. And who the hell was I to think this beautiful man had spent the same amount of time dreaming of me as I’d been dreaming of him?“I’m sorry. That was too much. And certainly none of my business.” I smiled at Antonio when he set down our drinks. It didn’t help that the crack of my smile was a physical representation of the crack my heart had endured.
His hesitation said it all before he added, “Bullshit.” His hand covered mine. “Itisyour business. I—I’m free, yes. But I wasn’t always.” He cleared his throat. “It had been years, Noa...”
“Look, I don’t really want to do this.” I felt the tears building and I blinked them away in embarrassment. “It’s beensevenyears, Dexter. It’s…it’s too late.”
He shook his head and ran his hands over his face.
I didn’t want him to be uncomfortable, so I changed the subject. We could catch up, at the very least. Just because we weren’t together, in love, didn’t mean we couldn’t be friendly. “So, Tammy. Your partner? What exactly are you doing these days?”
He removed his hand, looking at me in confusion before chuckling. “Throwing me a bone, eh? We head a programming department in a pretty big computer company. The first few years were hard work, but now we have more employees and every few months, I make my way to the city for clients and new contracts. What about you? What are you doing here, Noa?”
“I’m still painting. These days, people like my work. Enough to pay my bills and then some. So, I’m comfortable as the days pass.” I took a sip of ginger ale. “Just like you, my first few years here were tough, but something told me if I stuck it out, I’d be fine.”
Neither of us used the typical words people used to express happiness. Instead, we focused on details and I skirted around emotions. Comfortable and fine.
Words unsaid often meant more than the ones we let slip through our lips.
Antonio came back around, placing our food in front of us. Dexter looked at the plate and laughed. I grinned, waiting for him to say it.
“The same dish, Blue? Really?”
I shrugged. “What can I say? I’m predictable.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re the furthest thing from predictable. It’s your fear that has you saying that.”
Nail, meet head. But he didn’t need to know that.
I dug in, too nervous to say anything else and Dexter stared at me as I ate. I didn’t mind his eyes on me. I wished I knew, for the millionth time, what was going on inside his mind.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” I asked. The scene around us fell from my sight and in its place was the restaurant we’d first sat in, when I begged my heart to stop pounding mercilessly.
“I’m actually not that hungry,” he said.
History is certainly repeating itself.
I ate slowly, not sure what the next step would be for us.
Will I say goodbye? Will he let me?
And if he does, then what?
“I have something to ask you, Blue,” he said, leaning forward again.
This time I leaned in, too. “What’s that?”